Yesterday marked the 3rd time (or is it the 4th) I’ve taken little H to the doctor only to find out THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM. This is disturbing to me on several levels – (1) shouldn’t I, a mother of two children, know when my kid is sick and when he is not; (2) how can any child be this fussy and inconsolable and there be nothing wrong with him?
I mean, yes he just finished cutting two teeth, but still this fussiness/insomnia persists – only alleviated when you hold him while standing or walking around the house. (He’s not a fan of sitting on your lap.) But of course, the minute we set foot in the doctor’s office, he does nothing but smile. The doctor walked in and said, ‘what a cute little guy. Is he always this easygoing?’
Around New Year’s, we were dealing with another bout of supreme fussiness and took him into the after hours clinic, no less, such was our fear that we’d be stranded in the wee hours of Saturday with a screaming child and no antibiotics. We waited a good 45 minutes or more for the doctor to come in. She looked our happy, smiling baby over. Ears, nothing. Throat, nothing. Finally, she turned to us and said: ‘can I write under diagnosis – utterly charming?’
J and I mustered a few fake laughs at that. She said, ‘if you ever want to hand him off to someone, I’ll be glad to take him.’ We didn’t let a second pass – ‘how about tonight,’ we offered.
‘Mmh, I have rounds tonight, I don’t think you’d like that,’ she countered.